Chapter 7 - THE EMERGENCY CUSTODY FILE
The search of the storage unit lasted almost six hours.
By the time Detective Bennett called, the sun had gone down.
Amy was feeding Frederick on our couch.
We had changed every lock.
Police had advised us to stay somewhere else.
I refused.
This was our house.
For the first time in months, I wanted Amy to feel it belonged to her.
Bennett arrived with an investigator from the district attorney’s financial crimes division.
His name was Marcus Hall.
They carried copies, not originals.
Hall opened the emergency custody file.
The first document was a printed petition that had never been filed.
It accused Amy of neglect.
Unstable behavior.
Financial irresponsibility.
Failure to provide proper nutrition.
I nearly laughed when I read that last accusation.
My mother had stopped Amy from feeding Frederick at the party.
Then she had prepared paperwork accusing Amy of neglecting him.
“There’s more.”
Hall said.
He showed us photographs.
Dirty dishes.
Laundry baskets.
Baby bottles.
Amy sleeping on the couch.
Each image had a date.
Each had been taken inside our home.
“She was documenting me.”
Amy whispered.
I felt rage rising.
“Yes.”
Hall said.
“But selectively.”
There were no pictures of Teresa sitting in the living room while Amy cleaned.
No pictures of Amy feeding Frederick.
No pictures of my mother dumping extra chores on her.
Only moments that made a tired new mother appear overwhelmed.
Then came statements.
Aunt Betsy claimed Amy was “emotionally unstable.”
Mason claimed she often “ignored household responsibilities.”
Another cousin wrote that Amy depended completely on Teresa for childcare.
All signed.
All dated.
“You think they were going to use these?”
I asked.
Hall nodded.
“If the property scheme failed, custody could become leverage.”
“Leverage for what?”
“Cooperation.”
Amy stared at him.
“You mean they would threaten to take Frederick unless we signed?”
“That is one possibility.”
My wife’s hand went immediately to our son.
I had never seen fear turn into anger so quickly.
“She used my baby.”
Her voice was quiet.
“She watched me struggle.”
“And instead of helping me, she took pictures.”
I sat beside Amy.
“We’re done being afraid of her.”
Hall exchanged a look with Bennett.
“That may be harder than you think.”
He opened another folder.
Inside was a list of names.
Six families.
Three had properties in Tennessee.
One in Kentucky.
Two in Georgia.
Beside each name was a number.
Hall pointed to the first.
“We contacted this couple.”
“What happened?”
“They lost their home three years ago.”
Another.
“This woman emptied her retirement account after Teresa convinced her she owed money to a family investment fund.”
I stared at the names.
“How long has she been doing this?”
“At least seven years.”
Seven years.
My father had died eleven years ago.
I thought of the account in his name.
“What about my father?”
Hall became very still.
“We found something related to him.”
He placed one final paper in front of me.
It was a life insurance claim.
My mother had collected $450,000 after my father died.
That I knew.
May you like
What I did not know was that three months before his death, the beneficiary had been changed.
My name had been removed.
